


Delphiniums and Pine

by Vandettaotaku



Category: Original Work
Genre: 'based on' in description due to there not being classes or non-humans, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Hanahaki Disease, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Blood, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Shot, Unrequited Love, apart from that they're pretty much the same, it's hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22119412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vandettaotaku/pseuds/Vandettaotaku
Summary: Even if you are quite happy to stay in denial, even if it would be better for everyone involved to do so, there's nothing quite so obvious as petals pouring out of your mouth to force you to come to terms with your feelings.What you choose to do then... Well, that's a little more complicated.(Based on characters from a recent DND campaign)
Relationships: Erin/Elgeon, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Delphiniums and Pine

_"The Hanahaki Disease is an illness borne of unrequited love, where a plant will take root in the patient's lungs and continue to grow. It is thought that this is due to specific chemicals released during this emotional process as opposed to love in general, as when the patient knows their feelings are returned the plants will wither and die, and get absorbed back into the body. The exact mechanism of action of this is unknown, and still being researched, although an airborne element has been suggested._

_It is characterised in the early stages by fragments of flowers, such as petals or anthers, being expelled with a cough. Bloody mucus may also be present. In the later stages, this will progress to entire flowers, which will start to obstruct the airways of the patient, and more blood as the flowers irritate the trachea and bronchi. In severe cases, this can lead to death by suffocation if untreated. Progression is dependent on the extent of the feelings, and how quickly they have developed; Hanahaki will develop regardless of whether or not the patient is aware of their feelings. Which flower in particular is the causative agent appears to vary depending on the characteristics of the object of the patient's affections (for example, a daisy being associated with a person who is innocent, pure and cheerful)._

_The only treatment currently available is surgery to remove all trace of the flowers - unfortunately, this will also remove all romantic feelings towards the person, and in rare cases all positive emotions towards them. Alleviating methods include-"_

Elgeon groaned softly as he pulled the flush on the toilet again, forehead resting gently against the seat as he wiped the last remaining, furled flower from the corner of his mouth, thumbed away the smear of blood left in its wake. He cracked open one eye to stare at the crumpled, vibrant petals, scarlet bright against the deep purple, before closing it again, sighing softly as he wiped it away.

Delphiniums. 

[An open heart. Levity. Ardent attachment. Protection. Cheerfulness. Good will. Devotion. Pleasure. Generosity. Frivolity.]

When he had felt the first petal at the back of his throat so many months ago, the overwhelming emotion had been confusion. A query as to how he had managed to swallow a flower. Which flower it was - there were so many that shade. Hanahaki, despite its regularity, didn’t even register. After all, he wasn’t in love. 

That thought had prevailed for... months. Almost two years. Even though the petals progressed - slowly, but definitely; more and more coming with each cough, throat turning raw and chest tight with how crowded his lungs were becoming.

But then Erin got a girlfriend. 

And that night, the first fully formed flowers appeared, edges of their petals streaked with blood. 

After that, it had been almost too obvious. He could almost feel the flowers blooming as Erin laughed, kissed her forehead, waxed lyrical about her hair and her eyes and her laugh. Smiled past a cough and tried to keep the choke from his voice as he said he was happy that he had found someone so good for him, and tried to convince himself that he meant it. Wheezed past a multitude of bitter, metallic petals late at night, staring up at his ceiling and pretending the tears in his eyes were simply from the toxins in the flowers irritating his throat. 

Penelope, of course, had called him an idiot. Said he could do so much better, rolled her eyes in disbelief when he said he didn’t want better. Advised surgery. Nynaeve had agreed, reminded him that no love was worth dying for. Not like this. 

He had said he’d think about it.

Erin had noticed, of course. Questioned who the hell would not reciprocate his feelings, joked that at least the flowers were pretty and laughed - he could almost pretend that he didn’t hear the worry tuning it a slight tone towards frantic. It almost made him consider the surgery, that although he would forget ever having this love that at least Erin would stop looking so concerned. So pitying, whenever Erin thought he wasn’t looking. 

But there was a sort of strange, vicious joy in it, as well. Something he couldn’t quite explain. A... proof, when he looked at the clusters of beautiful blooms, that despite everything he could still love so much that it was killing him. A proof to himself, and everyone else who delighted to jeer that surely he could never love, that he was incapable of it. 

And he wasn’t sure if he could let that go just yet.

A month passed, more and more and more flowers spilling free until he stopped having the energy to clean them up, a sickly, metallic scent clinging to his room and his clothes. It was harder to breathe than ever - he had almost passed out the last time he had had to run - but his lifestyle could be adjusted for it. Just a little longer before he would go for the surgery. A little longer of this proof, this love.

Then one day Erin coughed, frowned, reached into his mouth and fished out a hard, dusky pink kernel. 

Pine.

[Longevity. Survival. Peace. Wisdom. Rebirth. Remembrance. Loyalty. Devotion.]

His girlfriend had broken up with him immediately, screaming and crying about how cruel he had been for not having broken up with her earlier. Erin had regressed into himself almost as quickly, mourning the loss of his relationship and - he supposed - the loss of a normal life. For the moment.

(“Do you wish you didn’t love them?” He had asked one day, whispering past a mouthful of scarlet-mottled petals. Erin had paused, then sat up in bed, staring blankly at the opposite wall. 

“..... No. I wish they loved me. But I don’t regret loving them.” He caught a flash of cerulean as Erin glanced over, and ducked his head, almost ashamed somehow. Simply for being there when someone else could. Someone who could comfort and regale sincerely. Help come up with a plan. But every time he tried, the flowers rose up again, leaving him gasping for breath.

He left a few minutes later, face bright and wet with embarrassment and Erin’s carpet covered with delphiniums.)

It went faster from there. 

Erin started coming to visit his small flat instead, making him tea spiked with honey mead that was always just a little too sickly sweet against the blood, but helped his throat a little. Helped keep his room tidy when he could no longer stay upright, carried him into the front room ‘for a change in scenery’, ignored his feeble protests and held him close when he felt him shivering, told him about what was going on outside of his small space, breath starting to tinge metal under the sweet, heady pine. 

(“..... And you can’t move on?” The question was soft, a rustle of air against his hair. He didn’t even open his eyes, shoulders slumping in a semblance of a sigh as he kept struggling for each quiet breath. 

“......... How?” Erin’s head fell heavier against his, and he felt his chest rise and fall.

“..... I don’t know.”)

He should have the surgery.

He knew it.

He should. 

But this was the first time he had ever been treated like this. 

The first time he had felt so safe, so.... secure. 

He knew he wouldn’t care about Erin afterwards. And that in itself was... terrifying. But still less so than the idea of potentially never having something like this again, never having _someone_ like this.

He didn’t think he could survive that. 

(Penelope came to visit, screamed at him and called him an idiot with tears in her eyes, came back the next day with a bunch of cornflowers and tea and read to him for hours, until he fell asleep.)

(Nynaeve brought her dogs, the massive ones that looked more like wolves, and tried to laugh and joke like always, letting them - for once - climb up on the bed, lick his face and his hands and chuff softly in requests for pets. He pretended he was still asleep when he felt her squeeze his arm as she left, grip shaking just a little, faltering before disappearing.)

(He woke one evening on the sofa, faint whispers of sobs floating through the air, cushions trembling softly and then violently with a loud, hacking cough. He managed to twist enough to see Erin hunched over, one hand dripping blood over his mouth as his shoulders shook, and felt the roots twine just a little tighter around his ribs.)

He had later tried to whisper that it wasn’t worth Erin’s time to be there, and Erin had stumbled a pace, halting just inside his bedroom door. 

“Don’t be stupid. You’re-..... You’re my friend, yeah? I want to be here.” He barely managed to shake his head, turning his face into his shoulder and listening to Erin stutter over a few more words, not resisting when he finally sighed in frustration and set him down in bed again, carefully covering him and tucking him in. “.......... Do you want me to stay until you’re asleep?” He was too weak to deny the urge, nodding drowsily and fingers curling a little into the sheet as he relaxed again, forcing another heavy breath in and then simply letting it filter out, petals fluttering out of his slightly-open mouth and sticking to his lips. He could feel Erin gently wipe them away, felt how his touch lingered a heartbeat longer than normal, and couldn’t help but lean into it the slightest amount, lips twitching up a little. 

Heard Erin’s breath hitch, just on the edge of hearing. 

Felt him smooth his hair back behind his ear, fingers trembling against his skin. 

Felt them pause, waiting for any motion, any sign he was still awake.

Felt Erin’s lips graze over his forehead, his cheek, his lips. 

(He hadn’t expected to wake up the next day) 

(A week later, and he was able to sit up by himself. Erin had been delighted, asked what had changed.

His expression when he realised was enough to wilt most of the flowers in his larynx.)

The pine flowers stopped coming a month later; Erin had always been faster to accept what others told him as truth. Especially with such hard evidence. 

Him, personally? It took longer. Months.

(There were still nights when he would wake up with the dizzying choke back in his scarred lungs, coughing, shaking uncontrollably and hugging himself as he cried, forced himself to leave the phone sitting on the bedside table despite the desperate yearning to simply call Erin, beg reassurance and forgiveness for still not being able to fully believe him. Erin always looked so understandably hurt when the odd bloom still showed - there was no need to worry him even more with this)

It was a chill morning in spring, and he was laughing at Erin exaggeratedly pretending to slip on the completely dry pavement in an increasingly obvious ploy to get him to hold his hand ("Hey, it's really icy, you should hold on to me!"), when he fully realised that he hadn’t seen any flowers in weeks, that he was finally able to breathe clearly.

**Author's Note:**

> First story on here! Hope you all enjoyed - thanks to Telmarine and Jojo for beta reading it for me!


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